


All These Stupid Things

by sdwolfpup



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-20
Updated: 2007-03-20
Packaged: 2018-11-06 18:25:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11041752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwolfpup/pseuds/sdwolfpup
Summary: Every time he turned around or moved at all it seemed, Kowalski would be there pressed tight up against him or have an arm draped casually near Ray’s thigh and the invitation so obvious in his eyes that Ray was surprised no one else said anything.





	All These Stupid Things

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to brynnmck for beta, and for encouraging me while I wrote it. It really has no redeeming value besides the pr0n. Just, so you know. Hee.

They'd been on stakeout for two weeks now, shoved together in cars and hotel rooms and the smallest shed Ray had ever seen, which hadn't really been able to hold two adult men comfortably, let alone the three that had been squished in there, knees and elbows banging together. And the whole time Ray had found himself pressed too near Kowalski's skinny body, the heat of it - and Kowalski's cocky grin - taunting him, while Ray tried to joke around with his fellow detectives and not bite anyone's head off. Every time he turned around or moved at all it seemed, Kowalski would be there pressed tight up against him or have an arm draped casually near Ray’s thigh and the invitation so obvious in his eyes that Ray was surprised no one else said anything. Now it was just him and Kowalski in the car, alone together for the first time in two weeks, and still there was the other team's car parked where Ray couldn't make out any details, but he could see the occupants clearly enough that blowjobs to release the tension weren't a possibility. If the Fazouli family didn't slip up soon, this stakeout was gonna kill him.  
  
"This is getting pretty fucking tiring," Kowalski said, rolling his shoulders.  
  
"You're just noticing that?"  
  
"I guess I'm not quite the hot shit detective you are, Vecchio."  
  
"Well that's true."  
  
"Shut up." Kowalski banged his fist against the side of Ray's latest Riv in rhythmic bumps. _Bump, bump, bump, bump._ He kept at it for a full minute before Ray cracked.  
  
"Would you stop that? You're driving me crazy."  
  
_Bump, bump._ "I know."  
  
Ray glanced over, saw the slick grin on Kowalski's face. Yeah, he knew, and it wasn't just the fist thing. "You're an asshole."  
  
"Takes one to know one."  
  
Ray choked on a laugh. "Are you twelve? Are you actually twelve years old? Am I gonna get thrown in jail for having sex with you?" Kowalski's eyes sparked and in an instant, Ray felt the two weeks of horniness surge over him. "Whatever you're thinking, don't," he warned, but his voice wasn't as steady as he would've liked.  
  
"Two weeks, Vecchio. That's a long time for a healthy guy like me."  
  
"You're in your 40s, Kowalski-“  
  
"Barely, old man."  
  
"Oh you're a riot. We're not teenagers, ok, so control yourself." But Ray _had_ felt like a teenager since he and Kowalski had started...dating wasn't really the right word. Neither was friends-with-benefits. He thought of what he'd heard one of Tony's nieces say: fuckbuddies. That was appropriate.  
  
_Bump, bump, bump._  
  
"I swear to God, Kowalski, you better fucking cut that out."  
  
"Or what? You're gonna sit there and _stare_ at me? Yeah I'm real scared, Vecchio."  
  
Ray glanced over, and threw a quick little thumbs-up to the other car. They responded in kind, and Kowalski laughed. Ray thumped his head back against the window. "Just back off, ok? They've got to slip up soon." It was quiet for a few moments, and then the metal scratch of a zipper was suddenly loud in the car. Ray looked over at Kowalski and felt his mouth drop open. "What the fuck are you doing?"  
  
Kowalski kept his head mostly forward, but his eyes shifted enough to meet Ray's. "Releasing the tension," he said, his voice low. Ray tried not to look - _God, could this be any stupider_ \- but he couldn't help it, he watched Kowalski unzip his jeans, and pull out his already half-hard dick from the slit in his boxers. Kowalski rubbed one long finger along the head, and slid down the length before gripping the whole shaft in his hand.  
  
Ray swallowed, hard. "Are you crazy?" he whispered. "Put that away." He glanced out the window, but all he could see of the other car were their silhouettes, turned towards each other. He and Kowalski probably looked a lot like that. He hoped. Ray turned his attention back to Kowalski, and saw he was slowly jerking himself off now, his hand moving in long, languid strokes. His face was calm except for the way he was biting his bottom lip, making it go white. Ray wanted to lean forward, kiss him where the teeth marks would be, put his hand around Kowalski's so he could feel the movement of Kowalski's sinful-looking hands through his palm. But if he moved forward, if he made that kind of shape in the shadows of the car, there was no way the other team wouldn't see it and - if they couldn't figure it out - wonder what the hell was happening.  
  
With his hands clenched into tight fists in his lap, Ray kept himself still and watched Kowalski stroking himself. The movement of Kowalski’s hand was steady, sure; Ray knew what that grip felt like, could imagine the ghost of it on his own dick now. He shifted in the seat, tried to move without moving too much. He and Kowalski had done a lot of stupid shit since they’d first come together like a hurricane; they’d broken a lot of dishes and Ray had more than one ripped shirt, but this was still the dumbest – the hottest – thing they’d done so far.

“Fuck,” he whispered, and Kowaksi’s hand stuttered, his eyes tracking to Ray’s. He looked like he was gonna say something, something Ray would probably have to deck him for later, so Ray crept his hand over and with a quick, smooth movement, rubbed his hand over the top of Kowalski’s slick cock, eliciting a barely muffled groan.

The touch set Kowalski’s slender hips off, too, moving with restless little jerks in the seat. Ray was breathing hard now just watching him, and he had to look out the window, across the street at the night and the other car and press his hand against his own dick. Ray shut his eyes, but that only left him surrounded by the sound of Kowalski’s hand moving up and down, faster and faster, the soft squeaking of his jeans against the car seats. He could picture it in full Technicolor in his head, could smell Kowalski’s heavy scent on the air. Ray pressed harder against himself, and when he couldn’t bear it he unzipped his own pants and wrapped his hand around his dick like it had been years since he’d gotten laid.

Ray focused, moved just his forearm and glanced at Kowalski to see him doing the same, his whole face twisted with concentration, sweat beading on his forehead. Then his arm went wild, jerking off-balance and he was coming all over his hand. Kowalski’s eyelids fluttered closed, his long lashes looking almost fragile against his high cheekbones. It was deceptive, like he might be sleeping, except his lips were tight now, pressed together until they were flat, and only the tiniest sounds were escaping. It was killing Ray to not _hear_ him. All he could do was jerk himself off and watch Kowalski: the dark wetness of the head of Kowalski’s cock as he came and the way his arm muscles bunched and released under his tight skin until his body went still, while Ray imagined the gasps and moans he knew from dark, sweaty nights.

Then Ray felt his own release crashing through him, fast and furious like a tornado, out-of-control like every fucking minute he spent with Kowalski. He clamped his lips shut, held on until he couldn’t move his arm if he’d wanted to.

They slumped into their seats, both breathing hard. Ray’s hand was already going sticky, so he gestured at the glovebox with his chin and cleaned himself up with the Kleenex Kowalski threw at his chest. Ray glanced out the fogged-up front window but the other detectives’ silhouettes were gesturing at each other, engaged in some conversation. And even though they’d both just come, Ray wished they were home so he could touch Kowalski, run his hand over Kowalski’s sweaty back, press his fingers into his long thighs. Be closer than a couple feet and a not-dark-enough street.

“Kowalski-“

“I know what you’re gonna say, Vecchio, so just shut up and give me those.” He grabbed the used tissues out of Ray’s hand, flashed a grin. “Look ma, no wet spots.”

Ray adjusted his pants while Kowalski hopped out of the car, threw a brief wave to the other cops. Kowalski stretched his arms out wide, did a couple of squats on those long legs, like he just needed a walk and some fresh air.

 _Fresh air_ , Ray thought with a snort. There wasn’t enough fresh air in the world to solve Kowalski’s problems. And when Kowalski leaned down and pressed his face against the passenger side window to make some ridiculous expression, Ray flipped him off.

But he couldn’t stop smiling. 


End file.
